A Journey
by mynameislizzie3
Summary: A story which begins with two betrayals. How it ends isn't yet clear. Naomily obviously, but OC's will appear.
1. Chapter 1

**This could either be the start of a longish story or a rather melancholy one shot. I'm not being coy or looking for encouragement, honest. I just have no idea if this one has 'legs'. I know better writers and the more professional of my fellow contributors probably plan out clever story arcs, plot lines and characterisations in advance, but to be honest, I've never written like that. I start with a germ of an idea...a scenario, sometimes just a moment in time… then it either expands or expires of its own volition. This is one of those times. It begins in that miserable period when Emily is punishing Naomi for her momentary lapse of judgement. Sophia is dead, Cook is either in jail or on the run and Effy is off with the fairies. Times are hard at Mrs and Mrs Campbells. The glowering presence of Mandy is ever present...and Naomi, even in her self medicating, introverted state, is starting to smell a rat about Emily's new 'straight' friend. Not without good reason, as we know….and she quickly finds out.**

 **But before that even...we take a trip to a time a few hours _after_ the event which precipitates the crisis. Just because I can…**

Naomi

The coach lurched suddenly and without warning to one side with a screech of brakes, accompanied by a barked shout of alarm from the driver. As we straightened up and accelerated again, I caught a brief glimpse out of my window at a wobbly girl cyclist, face half shocked, half bemused at almost being turned into road kill in the yellow lined box junction she'd tried to negotiate in front of oncoming traffic. I felt a fleeting moments empathy for that sickly pale fellow traveller with the now slightly askew cycle helmet. She'd been an inch away from being terminally flattened by the overeager turning of our National Express bus driver, determined to get us up Park Street and onto the bypass as soon as physically possible. As a metaphor for the car crash my life had become, it was very fitting. The driver grumbled a bit, but headed straight on without looking in his mirror. Obviously he was as motivated as I was to put this shitty town behind us in the shortest time frame possible. But probably not as heartsick….at least I hoped so... _one_ of us needed to pay attention for the next 150 miles?

With the coach steadily in motion again, I shrank back into my seat, grateful at least for the gods who'd decreed that my aisle stayed empty apart from my own sorry arse and the bulging backpack next to me I'd hurriedly packed no more than an hour and a half ago. My ticket said London Victoria one way, but that was as far as my brain had got me. So much had happened today, it was as much as I could do to blurt out a destination, proffer my student card and £25 in cash. So far so good for mindless auto pilot, but now the driver had stopped aiming our coach at random cyclists, there was nothing to distract me from thinking…

XXX

Emily

Shock and self loathing. Those were the two primary emotions competing to overwhelm me. How could I have been so _stupid_...so careless? For over three weeks now I've been scrupulous about keeping my new so called 'friend' Mandy away from Naomi or anyone else close to me. Meeting her at out of the way pubs (the one fuck up being the time I bumped into JJ, but I think his natural reticence at ratting me out and/or residual hope I might shag him again one day stopped it being an issue), only being alone with her in very public places, just in case my libido got out of control after a few drinks. I was careful...right? I wanted to try new things, strike out on my own with new friends...two years of hanging onto Naomi like some strange Remora fish (ha fucking ha...fish/Fitch...geddit?) had stunted my independence and now she'd gone and revealed her feet of clay, falling off that impossibly high pedestal I'd pushed her up on, I was free to be myself. Emily Fitch, newly outed lesbian. Jesus, queen of the cliché or what?

OK, all that self justification is actually a crock of shit and I knew it then as much as I know it now. I've been flat out punishing her, pure and simple. Treating her like some fucked up reluctant teenage landlady. There to cook and clean and run round after me with hollow eyed desperation as I breeze in and out of the house and her life, unforgiving...spiteful. Now she was the chaser, I was the prey. But I had no intention of bring caught just yet.

But today blew all that out of the water. I thought she was at the library...study being the only thing Naomi seemed capable of still doing without crying. Well maybe she was at the library at first. But stupidly, I'd drunkenly invited Mandy back to 'ours' after a heavy session at the pub this lunchtime. Three pints of cider and two vodka's smashed my caution aside. When I get drunk, you see, I get horny. Naomi could tell you that...at least she could have done once. Back in the days when a session in the pub was just an hors d'ouvres to some serious shagging back at Chez Campbell.

So I found myself being let into my own front door by a giggling Mandy, who was still able to operate a key. The house was silent and mercifully free of non paying lodgers. Naomi was (so I thought) at the college library, cramming for her last two exams. Katie too had three classes this afternoon and with Cook still expelled and AWOL and Effy in the funny farm for the duration, the coast was clear. Even in my drunken state, I still had a clear enough head to check the house for bodies first. Not that I intended to get properly down and dirty with Mandy...at least not yet anyway. Even as I was letting her escort me to clubs and pubs these past few weeks, I still held out on sealing the deal. No matter how much I hated what Naomi had done with the dead girl, I wasn't ready to copy her _that_ fucking closely. Dirty dancing, check… A sloppy snog in a doorway, ditto. But anything under the clothes was a no no. I just couldn't.

So...what I _intended_ to enjoy today was another drink...as long as Naomi hadn't emptied all the spirit bottles yet (her intake these days seems to increase on a daily basis)...then maybe a snogging session and a bit of over the clothes groping before I sent my would be seducer home frustrated, yet again. I knew she was getting a bit pissed off with all the teasing, but anything more than a bit of crafty boob stroking and I always pulled back. I could always sort myself out later in the bathroom….or try to.

The words "you're no better than _her_ " always seemed to glow like a lurid casino sign in front of my eyes when Mandy tried for the tenth time to get her hand up my skirt. Hypocrite...yep, thats me. Fully paid up member.

Until today.

 _Flashback_

" _Mandy...stop...no really...stop" I murmured as she kissed my neck in the place I found it hard to resist sighing over. Make that two girls now who know that spot just under my ear is my erogenous zone numero uno._

 _My hand was gripping hers tightly as it crept dangerously close to the place I was still unwilling to let her to touch. Not that I wasn't fucking **humming** there, craving nothing more than the touch of eager fingers on my damp heated flesh. The fact that Naomi and I haven't made love since that horrible morning on the car park roof...oh, and my total inability to get myself off without treacherous images of naked blondes and vivid blue eyes ruining the mood, meant that my normally high libido was on frustration turbo mode this afternoon._

" _Mmm,_ _why_ _Ems…_ _I know you want it_ _?" she_ _whispered_ _softly, running her sly tongue around the lobe of my ear, which set off a series of involuntary shivers inside me. Jesus, I was finding it_ _all but_ _impossible to deal with that crafty hand and her oral_ _teasing_ _. I only have so many barriers and the vodka was fucking big time with my willpower. But I pulled back_ _this time_ _...just._

" _Mandy...babe...we have to stop...someone could come in anytime?"_

 _It was a pitiful excuse, specially as I'_ _d_ _told her the house would be empty for the afternoon as we walked up Alfred Road towards the familiar chipped blue door, but I was running out of coherent thought by then. Ten minutes she'_ _d_ _been working away at me. Settling for soft kisses at first, keeping her hands on my shoulders and neck up till now. I was lulled into a stupid sense of_ _false_ _security. Backing her off when we were both squirming in damp knickers had become_ _standard_ _routine over the past couple of weeks._

 _But I badly underestimated her resolve this time, thats fucking clear._

 _If I looked at the situation objectively, why the fuck_ _ **would**_ _she wait any longer? Going out with her twice a week minimum,_ _clubbing, drinking, acting like we were a proper couple...she was entitled to think I was_ _well_ _into her. I wasn't being at all fair. To her or my actual girlfriend. Katie_ _had_ _cornered me twice this week. She'd grown strangely fond o_ _f_ _Naomi lately, which I suppose is understandable after she guilt tripped her into accepting yet another Fitch into the house._

" _Emily...I know what you're fucking doing and frankly its pretty shit? Tania saw you in that club in St Pauls on Friday. That fucking skank Mandy was all over you? So what...Naomi cheats and suddenly you have to copy her? Grow the fuck up. Either dump her and move on, or better still, dump the cave troll and try to pick up the pieces?"_

 _Now, taking lectures from_ _Katie_ _on_ _relationships was a twist too far. But I was so shocked at being caught out_ _cheating_ _, the sarcasm I wanted to use was_ _suddenly_ _out of stock. Instead I just mumbled something to her about 'mind your own business bitch' and_ _beat a quick retreat. She was way too close to the truth about what I was...am doing._

 _B_ _ut I carried on_ _living two lives_ _...because I couldn't find it in me to_ _lose_ _either. Naomi is...was...the love of my life, and I couldn't make the break_ _from her_ _...not yet anyway. And Mandy_ _is_ _my escape valve. Always available to smile, buy me a drink and make me forget how utterly miserable I actually am._

 _She tried again to wheedle me into giving in._

" _Em...what's stopping us? No one's around...we've been dancing round this for ages? I really like you...look, if it makes you feel better, you don't have to do anything to me_ _at all_ _...honest. But_ _just_ _let me..."_

 _Again the_ _cool_ _hand stroked my_ _inner_ _thigh just below the hem of my denim skirt. I_ _took_ _a second to curse myself for not wearing jeans today. Under that short skirt was just a wisp of tiny material. I was never gonna emulate Katie's preference for dental floss as underwear, but the thong I was wearing was a pitiful barrier against wandering hands. I knew if I relaxed my guard, Mandy would push it aside with just one finger. Then I really would be lost. I remember saying to Naomi once, when we were groping_ _each other under a tree in the park that if she touched me 'there' I wouldn't be able to stop her. I wasn't lying. My one and only excursion into hetero land (apart from the pity fuck with JJ of course) resulted in me losing the virginity I'd prized well after Katie had willingly given hers away. Not my finest moment, being shagged against the cold brick of a youth club wall...but this had been the first kid who'd bothered to get me going before trying to get inside me. So I knew if Mandy reached her goal, I'd give in easily._

 _But she was patient, I'll give her that. She backed off again, settling for some gentle boob squeezing over my tee. I sighed in relief and satisfaction as her fingers toyed with my erect nipples. This I could cope with. I started to reciprocate. Mandy has nice tits. Not as nice as...well, fuck that thought, just nice. We snogged some more and tongues joined the action. I was just thinking that maybe we could do this for a few more minutes, then I could politely but firmly find some excuse to bring it to an end when she played her master card._

 _Pushing me back, her smooth, bare leg inserted itself between my thighs. Suddenly there was pressure...right fucking there. I groaned into her mouth and realised my hand was now in quite the wrong position to salvage my dignity. That long leg was insistent, knowing. Again and again she pressed against me. I groaned again and felt her smile against my lips._

 _I tried to free my mouth...protest..anything to stop the exquisite movement of her leg, but she was quicker...much quicker._

 _She used my hesitation to push her hand downwards, between her knee and my...well, you know. Instead of an insistent thigh there, I now had a hand. A hand which instantly cupped me firmly._

 _This time when I groaned, she pulled back and started attacking my ear with small nips, blowing tiny puffs of hot air which made my toes curl. I shivered deeply and despite grabbing for that crafty hand, I knew I was lost. I was pissed, horny and a determined girl was cupping my cunt like she owned it. Her knee changed its angle and I felt my thighs opening, inch by inch to her pressure._

 _It was a nail that did for me. A single perfectly manicured nail. Instead of making a grab for me, maybe at the risk of shocking me into action, instead she used the space her leg had given her to scrape gently up and down the centre of my thong._

 _This time I didn't shiver...I shuddered. My legs relaxed and suddenly my resistance crumbled. Again I felt her mouth twist into a smile as she continued kissing my neck and murmuring soft words. But I was lost already. Lost to reason._

 _Instead of fighting against her seduction, I moaned and pulled her head round until our lips met in a crushing kiss that took both our breath away._

 _That sly hand wasn't about to give up all it had gained and while I was gasping into her mouth, it slid upwards, then down...inside._

 _Shockingly, I felt smooth skin against my own. Then her fingers began to dance over my warm and wet flesh. The knee and its attached leg moved aside. No need for pressure now. Now I wanted what she wanted. I wanted those fingers on me..in me. We fell back together against the couch and she began to explore._

 _XXX_

 _It was the sound of eggs breaking that ended it. Half a dozen free range (of course) freshly purchased from the Asian grocers on the corner. The small orange price sticker I saw when I cleaned up afterwards confirmed it. The copy of Heat magazine, sticky and crumpled beside the shattered shells and broken yolks was similarly ruined._

 _But not as ruined as my life had just become._

 _Naomi stood in the doorway, hand to her mouth and the discarded 5p bag lying by her feet. Her eyes were the clearest blue...wide and uncomprehending. She only said one word._

" _Em?"_

 _But there was a whole thesaurus in that pained and hollow word._

 _Then she ran._

 _XXX_

Naomi

I only woke up when the coach brakes hissed as it pulled into Victoria Coach Station. Mercifully, my body had shut down during the interminable journey from Bristol. Self defence, I think they call it?

London then…

XXX

 **Just a teaser to see if anyone wants me to go on. I have all new ideas, honest!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part two then, My thanks go to all who reviewed the first part and specially to _M_ (mswitsend) who is an inspiration. Her new story has me gripped and if you haven't read it, shame on you. Its the best thing to be posted on FF for ages. Read it!**

 **Right then, Emily pushed her luck too far with the cave troll known as Mandy, so Naomi fled the scene and Bristol. We catch up in a couple of months. First with Naomi. True love never did run smoothly, specially with these two and broken hearts make for bad decision making. Not an excuse, but I remember being 17...its hard!**

Naomi

The girl I was pressing against the crumbling outside brickwork of the club wall moaned again and her fingers tightened rhythmically in the material of my crumpled top as I pounded her. The night air was cold and frosty, but neither of us was feeling it. She was the third this month. No one special...just a fucking random, like me. Can't even tell you what the name of the club is. I hitch-hiked here with a group of freshers I saw coming out of a pub I don't know the name of either. One of the guys, the one with a stupidly long striped Uni scarf, tried a cheesy smile on this lone reveller, swaying along the Mile End Road with a half empty beer can and a dopey smile.

Me.

I smiled crookedly back.

I knew that look. It said " _Uh Oh?...a reasonably attractive female, on her own and looking just pissed enough to maybe allow said student to screw her against a club wall after a few more drinks and_ _perhaps_ _a small yellow pill?_ "

Except it was me who did the screwing tonight. The guy...Darren...Daniel? gave up after he'd bought me two expensive cocktails following which, I dripped disappointment into his ear about my true sexual orientation. His look of dismay nearly made me take pity on him and offer a complimentary hand job out the back as consolation.

I said nearly. But no cigar. I left him talking urgently to his mate, both sending me resentful looks as I swallowed the last of the drinks and made my way even more drunkenly to the dance floor.

It was full of sweaty bodies. Mostly a few years older than me. But in the crazy kaleidoscope lights, I spotted a likely victim soon enough. I gave her 'The Look' . The one I've been practising for a few weeks now. Didn't even know I had it in my arsenal when I left Bristol. I've always had the other 'looks' The ' _don't fuck with me, loser_ ' sneer. The ' _are you educationally challenged?'_ one, oh and the ' _are you out of your fucking_ _ **mind**_ _?_ ' one I save for pathetic boys who leer hopefully at me, then try out one of their predicable give me a shag lines. (One James Cook had been the recipient of all three, not that it stopped him using them repeatedly)

But Cookie boy was back in Bristol...well, in a way. Bristol prison. I could have used him as a wing man these past weeks. After he got used to the idea that I would never shag him...not even at gunpoint... he sort of morphed into the closest thing to a real friend I've ever had. Breaking up with E... _her_...was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I could have done with the Cook shoulder to cry on and the Cook ability to find strong drugs in the unlikeliest places. But he's residing at Her Majesties Pleasure right now. And for the foreseeable future, inconsiderate cunt. So its left me alone in a strange city, with hardly any money, nowhere to sleep and no plan when I got here for the next 24 hours, let alone 24 months.

When I got off the coach, I had a grand total of £45.28 on me. Supposed to be the gas and electric money for Alfred Road, but fuck that. Leaving Emily behind, staring at me with those huge tear filled brown eyes was agony enough. Leaving her to get warm and comfortable with her totally non platonic new friend was a complete non starter. Maybe their love will keep them warm, I thought bitterly...Naomi Campbell isn't subsidising a treacherous ex a single day longer. I packed quickly and left them. I even pushed my key back through the letter box after I'd slammed the front door so hard the frame shook. Quite why, I don't know. Not the frame, the key thing. Its my fucking _house_...or at least my sainted mother's. But it felt good to do it. Whenever they eventually got tired of sticking their fingers in each other, the orphan key would tell that bitch and her new friend that I've not just popped down the shops for a replacement box of eggs and another copy of Heat. The half empty wardrobe might be a clue, but the shiny brass key would seal it.

The tiny bit of satisfaction that thought gave me lasted precisely long enough for me to find a quiet corner in Victoria Bus Station (not easy) and tap in my mothers mobile number on my phone. It rang for fucking ages...probably shagging the wrinkled tutor in some cubicle, I said to myself snidely. But she wasn't. She was at the airport…. Her and Kieran had just flown in to Gatwick from Thailand and were about to board a fast train to Bristol.

There was a deafening silence when I gave her the run down on what had happened at Chez Campbell since she fucked off. I braced myself for the inevitable, and after that pregnant delay, there it was.

"Oh _Naomi_ " she said

I've heard that sentence a million times. I've made a career out of fucking up...no really, I have. Expelled from middle school for being a complete wise arse was just the last in my list of colossal mistakes. I just managed to get into Roundview (not exactly the pinnacle of Bristol sixth form colleges) after mum sweet talked Harriet into overlooking my behaviour record in favour of my eight A*s at GCSE. Luckily for me that toad Professor Blood hadn't yet deposed Harriet yet and with average grades at Roundview going down faster than one of Donald Trumps porn stars, she recognised the sense in getting a straight A student into the college, whatever her other...problems.

Well, that worked out well, didn't it? A few days before my finals, I fuck off to London with a broken heart.

"Oh Naomi" she said again and this time my temper flared. Just for once, I wasn't the one to blame. Well, if you gloss over the fact that I poked dear Sophia first on the couch while Emily was at her grans. But I'd paid for that misdemeanour with 3 months of icy disdain, hostility and contempt... 24 hours every fucking _day_ since. Not to mention the final charming view of my so called girlfriend with her legs wide open, being frigged by that troll Mandy. The gorge rose in me again as the lurid scene refused to go away. It wasn't just the sight...it was the sounds you see. The muffled groans and the squeaking of the couch as Emily's 'friend' got her hand right down that flimsy g string. The fucking underwear _I_ bought her the week before the shit hit the fan over Sophia. Insult? Meet injury.

But anyway...after her usual lecture about infidelity and trust etc etc...my mother realised I was phoning from the big city, not the cold doorstep outside our house.

"Right" she said in that no nonsense tone that I have ignored for 17 years "...get yourself straight back on the coach Naomi Campbell...London is no place for a girl on her own. Come back home...we should be there just after you...then we can all sit down with a nice cup of tea and discuss this like adults?"

The chances of me sharing anything, even tea with Emily Fitch this side of the apocalypse was so vanishingly small I nearly choked on my own spit.

"N..no fucking **way** mum. I'm gone. Tell her to pack her things and get back to that scruffy caravan with the rest of the Fitches. If...no _when_ she's long gone, I might come back home. But right now...not happening"

Now I might have spent 17 years ignoring my mums advice and/or instructions, but she hadn't stopped trying either. I had to listen to nearly half an hour of reasoning, ordering and in the end, outright begging before she realised I was not going to do that tedious journey in reverse. Not that night anyway.

So she ended up getting Kieran to wire some money to Western Union for me. The money would be available so long as I had my passport, the next day by noon. In the meantime she insisted I find a decent hotel to check into. I wandered out of the coach station and saw the Park Plaza hotel. It looked expensive, but another phone call resulted in Kieran using his credit card to book me a single for one night. He nearly choked when the guy on reception told him it would be £150, but I could hear my mum in the background telling him in no uncertain terms that the only thing on the menu for the next month would be raw potatoes if he said no. I couldn't resist a smirk at that, remembering her comment about sex and potatoes during my first year at Roundview.

I got a snotty look from the receptionist when I showed her my single tatty bit of luggage, but a fuck I did not give. I was exhausted, even after sleeping on the coach. A few drinks from the mini bar (I dismissed the faint guilty twinge at hitting Kieran's Visa card even harder) and a good nights sleep then…..

And now...some weeks later, I hear you ask, why am I still here?

Well, I got talking...to a couple of Australians about travelling, living out of a rucksack on no money and this and that and...well, umm….

Anyway...all that's academic, unlike my _actual_ academic life. No school yet, but mum's been phoning people like crazy. I didn't even know I had a cousin in London. But apparently I do. Lucky me.

So now I have a poky spare room in a three bedroom terraced house in East London, courtesy of my long lost cousin and I'm booked to start retrieving my abandoned education at the end of the month. Time enough for me to cram for the delayed exams and get those A level grades so I can take up my unconditional place at Goldsmiths.

But that doesn't explain why I'm out of my head right now, gnawing the neck of a shy but curious first year Uni student who meekly agreed to follow me outside this poxy club for a 'smoke'.

Yeah, a smoke…

The only things smoking are my straight fingers as they drive in and out of her clinging moisture. We started off kissing in the club...which was quite sweet. We'd danced closely for half an hour, gradually pressing closer together, until I could get my knee between her thighs. I'm starting to get the hang of this seduction lark (don't laugh). My extensive experience of girls comprising a short and unsatisfying grope on the couch with the late Sophia, which my ex trumped comprehensively by shagging Mandy in front of me...oh and an intense and fulfilling relationship with one Emily Jane Fitch...the ex in question. Not exactly Anais Nin...but I'm learning.

The girl...Anna...Hannah or something? Noisy clubs not being the best environment to have an in depth conversation, was ridiculously easy to seduce...or maybe its just that I wasn't taking no for an answer? I seem to have left my empathy behind in Bristol, along with my morals. She was pretty, in an entirely un Emily blond and blue eyed way and was at least willing to let me use her. Whimpering into my shoulder as I roughly squeezed her small tits and bit into the soft flesh of her neck. Once her skirt was up around her waist and my hand inside those tiny girl shorts...it wasn't hard to forget who she was and what she represented. I didn't want anything back...I seem to be numb below the waist these days...but her groans and whispered pleas were at least mildly exciting. Someone was getting something out of this loveless fuck. I curled my fingers and use my thumb on her swollen clit. That hit the spot...she bucked against me and her own fingers clutched even harder at my top.

"Oh God...oh shit...thats...fuuu.. _oh_ _ **Oh**_ " she gasped as I thrust harder. I pulled my head back from her sweet smelling neck and watched impassively as she lost control. Which means I _have_ control...something I thought I'd lost forever. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she shook from head to foot as she came. I let myself smirk briefly at how efficiently I'd got her off her before the satisfaction was washed away by the return of guilt and self recrimination. After she'd stopped shaking and gasping, she pushed my hand away and was suddenly all downcast eyes and embarrassed adjusting of clothing. When her knickers were back up and the skirt down, she looked nervously over my shoulder, probably checking our little back alley shag hadn't been observed. Well she was in luck tonight. The cold brickwork and yellow street light were our only witnesses. I brushed loose hair out of my eyes and registered the scent of her excitement on my fingers. It only added to my guilt.

"What sort of monster are you becoming?" my brain hissed at me "...using this girl to work out your own fucked up version of revenge"

The fact that it was true didn't make me accept it though. I shook my head as if answering.

I wished I was a normal human being for the first time tonight. The alcohol in my bloodstream was failing by now to boost my mood. Depression still lurked under it. The brief and for me unsatisfying sex had been a momentary distraction. I looked up at the cold indigo sky as the girl mumbled something about her mates wondering where she was. I hardly registered her leaving. Fumbling in my pocket, I pulled out a pack of Benson's...the reason I'd got her out of the club in the first place. Now I actually needed one. Flicking the throwaway lighter, I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass of an adjacent doorway. Hair mussed and the lipstick I'd carefully applied in my cousins box room spread across my lips and chin.

"You look like complete shit, Campbell" I murmured to my reflection.

"So you should" my conscience answered "...so you fucking _should_ "

I made a poor attempt to tidy myself up before lurching towards the street. Enough 'excitement' for one night…

XXX

Emily

"For fucks sake Emily...its five in the _morning_ " Katie grumbled thickly as I stumbled past her. The flimsy caravan door had refused to stay shut and banging it had only served to wake the gorgon known as my sister. Bumping into the gloriously inaccurately named 'temporary bed' that she was snoring on just made sure she was fully awake now. There were two of them, one either side of the equally badly labelled 'lounge area'. During the daytime, the 'beds' served as uncomfortable couches, barely wide enough to sit on. At night, with mum and dad in the only proper double bedroom and James in a cot in a tiny side room, it was the best we were going to get.

"Sorry" I said insincerely. The fact that I was 95% wasted probably didn't help.

"Jesus Emily...look at the state of you...your tights are fucking ruined?"

Tights being the least of my problems, I shrugged. Katie sat up and stared at me.

"Who was it tonight then bitch?" she sneered "Mandy the cave troll or that skank you were with on Wednesday...made a proper show of yourself at that party. I've started telling people that we're not related?

My mouth dropped at that. Katie of all people embarrassed at PDA's. The girl had made a fucking career of it from the age of 14. I'd lost count of the times I'd fled a room after catching her at it with whichever stud she was currently spreading her legs for.

"You're fucking unbelievable,...you know that" I hissed, knowing that raised voices had a habit of waking the she devil and I had no wish to be forced to explain my dishevelled appearance to my mother. The memory of the night I'd come home from Naomi's without my shoes and looking like I'd been mugged were still vivid. I wouldn't get away with telling them I'd 'nailed' someone this time. Everyone in the family was all too aware of my sexual orientation. Breaking up with Naomi hadn't changed that.

"Errr...pot, kettle Katiekins? This is me having fun...remember that?"

Katie flinched and I had a small twinge of regret for the snide remark, remembering that life had dealt her a hammer bow just about the time I was completely self absorbed about Naomi's cheating with Sophia.

She blinked away tears and I sat heavily on my own bunk. It squeaked alarmingly and I shot a concerned glance at the closed bedroom door at the other end of the caravan, but after a few seconds, it was still silent there.

"Look… I'm sorry for waking you up. I've just been out with some mates...smoked a bit of weed and fell into a bush, thats all. For your information, Mandy's moved on. I'm not looking for any sort of relationship right now. Broken heart, remember?"

Katie huffed and folded her arms over the thin duvet.

"Yeah right,...so broken, you've turned into the fucking acid queen inside two months. I get you're gutted that blondie has fucked off for good...but...?"

I bit my lip at that. It wasn't something I dwelt on nowadays, even if it was true. I'd been so shocked at being found out, that it was a couple of hours before I discovered the key, lying at the side of the doormat. Mandy had been pushed out of the door about five minutes after Naomi had slammed it. I had some stupid notion that my actual girlfriend had just stormed off for the afternoon, not forever. It was only when the door opened while I was staring at the half empty wardrobe in our bedroom that it all came crashing to the floor. Thinking it was Naomi home, I wiped the tears that were beginning to fall from my red eyes and ran for the hallway. If she was back...maybe I could just salvage things. I realised I'd been crazy...out of my tiny mind. Using Mandy had backfired spectacularly, but if Naomi was back, I could at least talk to her. Beg her.

The shock at seeing Gina and Kieran in the hall nearly made me fall down the stairs. When they saw me, I knew straight away I was in big, big trouble.

I'd been used to being the favourite with Naomi's mum. Because most of the time when things got fucked up it was my girlfriend who was the cause, Gina was normally on my side...well mostly. But I could see from the thin line of her mouth and the fact that Kieran was looking everywhere but at me, that this was going to be bad.

Well, it wasn't bad...it was fucking horrible. Gina put down her suitcases and beckoned me down. I came down the stairs with lead in my shoes.

"Well,, I would normally be asking you what she's done _this_ time Emily" she said sadly "...but I think we both know that's not true...is it?"

I shook my head dumbly...obviously Naomi had been talking at length to her mum. This wasn't going to be pretty.

She sighed.

"I wish I could say this will blow over. But I know my daughter better than that. I know she cheated first Emily...she phoned me about a hundred times when it happened...and I thought...well, I thought with the love you had for each other...that you might find it in your heart to forgive her. Obviously not. Did you have to be that cruel...let her find you with someone else...in her own house?"

The tears were falling down both our cheeks by now. I couldn't answer her because there was nothing to say. Eventually she sighed again.

"Right, well she's gone up to London Emily...how long for I don't know. But what I _do_ know is you can't be here...not now. Can you pack a bag and go back to your parents tonight? I'll get Kieran to bring the rest of your stuff over tomorrow, if you give him the address?"

And that was it...the end of all my dreams. I left quietly, leaving my own key on the table by the door. It was only then I saw Naomi's key on the floor beside the mat. I managed to hold in my sobs until the familiar blue door clicked shut behind me, then collapsed on the step and cried for...fuck I don't know...felt like hours.

And here I am now...living in a cramped caravan with my entire family.

I stared at Katie, who for once in her life was 100% right. Since that dark day, I'd set out to blank everything out. Mandy was history, but surprisingly, there seemed to be a continuous supply of experimental teenagers out there.

Shame not one of them was called Naomi Campbell.

"Oh Katie" I said pitifully.

"Come here" she said quietly and enveloped me in one of the Fitch hugs she rarely doles out. If there was ever a time I desperately needed one...it was now.

XXX

 **More to come later this week. The hedonistic life isn't without its benefits, but I don't think they're actually enjoying life...either of them.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three then. Encouraged (and daunted) by the wizardry of _mswitsend_ who's sorcery on _Fighting Loudly_ is dazzling, I'm inspired to continue. Enjoy if you like, ignore if you prefer. Thanks for passing by.**

Emily

Mum and dad are out. Mum to take James to school before trying to rescue what's left of her wedding planner business after Dad trashed her credit rating and emptied the joint bank account. Dad to go grovelling to Bristol Council to see if we can get a tower block flat that isn't currently sublet by Johnny White. After the 'Ghost Chilli' incident, which we laughed about for months after, I don't much fancy bumping into the gaunt goon in the lift. He might have just been being ' _dangerous_ ', you know, saying we would all be raped if Thomas lost, but I'm not up for finding out.

So me and Katie are having some twin time on the parents bed. Not _that_ , you dirty lot. Even Katie has stopped finding that little urban myth amusing. She used the old twin allure shamelessly when we were at school, but word soon got about that the perennial male fantasy was a definite non starter. Then of course, the gossip de jour was all about me and Naomi, both when I finally managed to tell the world (and the college) about me loving her and all...and then when we were a proper item... kissing in corridors and me finding the flimsiest excuse to drag her into a cupboard or empty classroom to have my wicked way with her.

It was like being happily drunk 24/7 without the hangovers. I could have her...literally... whenever I wanted her...and that was a lot. It was proper intoxicating. I never got tired of her lips, her body and her love.

Except then she went and fucked it up by screwing that poor bitch Sophia, before the sad cow topped herself so publicly. And then _I_ made everything a million times worse by allowing Mandy into my knickers, just as Naomi was coming home with peace offerings….and just when I was starting to weaken about being such a first class bitch. Karma huh?

It all seems like a year ago, not just weeks.

"What am I gonna _do_ Katie?" I pouted miserably. We were both wearing pink onesy's. Katies choice obviously. I think it was probably from the last time I allowed her to choose any of my clothing. I was maybe 15...but I'm not much bigger than I was in those days, so when I was silently handed it after we woke up entangled on the single bunk in the cold morning light and I'd had a much needed pee, I didn't argue. The caravan was fucking frigid, even in the summer. I missed my warm double bed...the one I used to share with my love. The bed in that mundane little end terraced house in Alfred Road that I thought naively would be our forever home.

I hugged myself tighter and waited for Katie to answer.

"You have to decide what you really want Ems. This is not really you girl, is it? I mean, getting pissed up night after night and screwing randoms is more Cook's Facebook profile? I get you're broken hearted...but so is Naomi by all accounts. And you'd never get me to admit this in public, thumbscrews included, but the punishment you've been dishing out to blondie was just a _tiny_ bit OTT...even without the added bonus of her catching you shagging the troll?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but the moral high ground I had been sitting on defiantly for months, dishing out great dollops of vitriol and spite her way, was now well and truly levelled.

Instead I swallowed hard on an unsaid retort. Much as good advice from Katie is usually as common as solar eclipses, this time she was 100% right. I'd been anaesthetising myself with drink, parties and random shags. Going out every night wasn't even really fun any more. And Mandy?...I burned in shame at hearing that name. She was supposed to be a bit of casual entertainment...a convenient arm to hang on and most importantly, someone to remind me every day that people _other_ than Naomi Campbell found me attractive. But she ended up being the flame that scorched the best thing that had ever happened to me. Just call me fucking Icarus?

Maybe it's twin intuition, but when I looked up, guilt plain on my face, Katie went straight in for the kill.

"And what the fuck _was_ all that about with Mandy anyway? Unless she had secret hidden talents..." she shuddered as if visualising Mandy's 'talents' "...and just...fucking _no_...I have no wish to ever have that image in my head, thanks… You've been just as cruel to her as you were to Naomi. Stringing her along...making her think you had feelings for you. Well, you don't...believe me, I know when you've got the hots for another lezzer...I spent a fucking year watching you drool pathetically over Campbell, yeah?"

Stupidly, I rose to the bait. My eyes flashed.

"Yeah...and look where _that_ got me...she fucking cheated on me anyway..and I even ended up lying to the police about leaving the club early and whether we knew the poor bitch at all?"

Katie shrugged. Like the true sociopath she is, incidents in the recent past are forgotten as soon as she puts 24 hours between them and her. I'd lost track of how many times I blatantly lied to hopeful lads who queued up outside our door, waiting for her to choose one at random. But that was by the way, it didn't solve today's problem. What the fuck was I gonna do about restoring some sanity into my life? Naomi showed no sign of coming back from London...like _ever_. and Gina was totally uninterested in telling me where she was living. It was like everyone had slammed a huge vault door on all my privileges. Even soppy old Kieran wasn't in the mood to help me out nowadays. Since the final exams were over, even boring Roundview seemed like a happy memory.

Katie sighed and picked at her painted toe nails. Obviously her well known tolerance for other peoples problems was being tested to the limit. I knew I only had a couple of minutes to try to get some advice I could actually use.

"Look..." she said slowly, as if tutoring a remedial stream student "...ask yourself one question? Do you actually _want_ her back...no, fuck that...if you _got_ her back, would you actually forgive her? Because if you can't… then all you're doing is building up more grief for both of you. Her finding you in the arms of Fiona Shrek is a bit of a fail, but this whole thing started to go sideways a long time before that, when she felt trapped by all the plans you had for the future...right?"

There it was...that word again. _Trapped_. I hated it when my dad said it and I still hated it now.

I wanted to argue...to say that planning a gap year in Goa was actually a joint decision. But that was a pile of doggy doo's. I'd steamrollered her into agreeing without considering her own plans for a moment. But her cheating had sort of drowned out rational thinking for a while. When I found out she'd screwed Sophia, I lost all reason. My idol was all too human after all, and I just couldn't deal with it.

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, actually thinking clearly for the first time in weeks. Then I let out the breath I had been holding and locked eyes with my sister.

"Yes...I do want her back...and to be honest...I think I actually forgave her a while back...I just couldn't bring myself to tell her?"

Katie rolled her eyes.

"Well, _that_ went well for you guys, didn't it? I suggest you get your arse in gear, grovel humbly to Gina...she always had a soft spot for you Ems.. She might be mad at you now, but she's quick to forgive...according to that lump Kieran anyway. Go round there and beg until she gives you an address. I'll even let you use my debit card to pay for the fucking coach. You've probably totalled yours on booze and industrial sized Kleenex by now?"

I kicked her with my sock covered foot. Not hard, you understand...I still needed that fucking debit card, because she was scarily close to the truth about my recent outgoings. Majestic Wine was a constant on my statements…

XXX

Naomi

 **Bang bang bang…**

The fucking door downstairs stayed on its hinges, but it was a close thing. I was dozing in my bedroom...alright, not dozing actually. Suffering. Last nights excesses were still playing havoc with my brain functions. No randoms to throw out this morning...luckily, but I'd definitely caned the gin yesterday. It was fortunate the rest of the house was silent. Everyone else but me having gainful employment...but with one blurry glance at the bedside clock, I groaned at whoever was interrupting my solitary penance. Hangovers now being compulsory at this address.

 **Bang bang bang…**

There it was again. I got up slowly, easing myself off the bed and promising homicide if it turned out to be Jehovah's Witnesses. If one more earnest young man in a suit tells me that Jesus loves me...I'm gonna throw up on his carefully polished Oxfords.

I stumbled downstairs and paused for a moment in the hallway. Well, it wasn't the Witnesses. They hunted in packs and there was only one figure in the fluted glass window. Whatever...I might be a recently dumped Naomi Campbell, but I had years honing my sarcasm to fall back on. Whatever he was selling...I ain't buying, I thought savagely before swinging the door open wide.

Which is of course, when my plan to send dragon flames over the annoying visitor went to ratshit.

" **Naomikins**!" the visitor yelled cheerfully and swept me up into a bear-hug. I gasped out a noise, but the words stuck in my throat. The visitor walked me inside, swung the door closed with his trailing leg and put me down. Both his hands were now on my arse...copping a proper feel. But this was the first familiar face I'd seen in weeks. My initial impulse to crack him a good one gave way to a wry smile.

"Fucking Cook...how the _hell_ did you get out of HMP Bristol.." I asked.

He held up his ankle and showed me a band of plastic with a blinking green LED on its side.

"Out on appeal babes...fucking ace brief I got this time...not like that cunt who helped them lock old Cookie up...so I'm out!"

Out? I thought incredulously...how the hell is that even possible...surely a tag is tied to a property...and no way had Cook been given this address? My puzzlement only lasted ten more seconds.

"Now...is there a hacksaw in the fucking house…?" he said, walking into the kitchen.

And I thought I had problems before I thought darkly, as I followed him.

 **Short I know, but there will be more this week. Promise!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 then. If, like me you have been devouring _Fighting Loudly_ this past few weeks, you may find my stuff meagre fare, but in my own little way, I'm trying to keep the flame alive. Naomily is what counts. So anything written is good for me. Thanks for stopping by…**

Naomi

Dawn came with a sullen greyness which suited my situation perfectly. But unlike the previous morning, it wasn't a ferocious hangover that greeted me when my brain groaned into life. Instead, my head felt like it had been wrapped in soft cotton...all warm and comforting...like someone had decided to give me a mellow wake up for once in my miserable life. I actually smiled to myself as my eyes opened. A hangover free morning was something to relish lately...so I snuggled deeper under the duvet and stretched out a leg behind me.

The resulting grunt and sleepy sigh froze me for a second, before my eyes opened again, this time wide open in full adrenaline overdrive.

What. The. _Fuck_?

"Alright princess?" the voice came from behind my head. I felt like someone had plugged me into the mains...a _man_...in my _bed_...and I sleep…I sleep…

 _Naked_

I sat up abruptly, clutching the duvet to my chest. Lying beside me in the single bed was possibly my worst nightmare. A grinning...and bare chested James Cook. His arms were over his head, hands linked behind it. A totally inappropriate pair of blue eyes raked over me...The duvet hid my miserable assets...but fuck...he'd been there all night?

Cook winked and yawned expansively.

"Sorry about the shock Naomikins...got a bit cold on the floor luv?...I didn't think you'd mind if I slipped in to get some warmth...you do like to talk in your sleep though..,.took me ages to get off?"

He winked again at the not so subtle innuendo and I clutched the duvet tighter to my bare tits.

"You have about half a fucking nano second to get your sorry arse out of my bed Cook" I growled "...I should have known you'd take liberties...wait...are you _naked_ under there?"

My horrified gaze took in his bare torso...then I saw that his trousers and boxer shorts were adorning my dressing table.

"Uh...yeah...well blondie...you were well asleep, in the scud after we'd finished off that monster Sensimilia stash and Cookie…. just likes to fit in, you know...so I..."

With an accompanying meaty slap to his grinning face, I gave him my very best Medusa look, known to freeze cheeky lads to stone in the past. But of course, even as he winced at the blow, the grin was coming back. Naturally...he'd finally done it, hadn't he?...Finally spent the night naked with Naomi Campbell...everything from here on in was a fucking bonus now to the twat.

"Get out...get fucking _OUT_!" I yelled, then realised I might not be as lucky as yesterday...there might be a random relative still in the house. I'd not even looked at the green faced alarm clock by the bed. "Get out of my fucking bed Cook or..." I hissed as quietly as I could. Luckily there were no sounds of alarm from downstairs at my outburst so far.

Unfazed, Cook threw back his side of the single duvet and I muffled a disgusted "ugh" as what looked horrifyingly like a full mast Cook morning glory bounced meatily between his legs as he nimbly went for his creased 501's.

Jesus...and I thought today was gonna be better than yesterday?

As he dressed, and I studied the pattern on the wallpaper opposite without moving my head, the events of last night came back to me.

Cook turning up unannounced, complete with blinking offender leg bracelet. Giving me some cock and bull story about being released on bail for appeal (it turned out that the murder charge _had_ now been dropped, as Foster had been found to have killed poor Freddie and looked likely to add Cook to his list of victims). He was still on bail for those drugs charges though...oh, and giving that Shanky guy a proper hammering at the party. But being Cook, he couldn't just keep his head down until the new trial...instead, he'd burgled his mums house while she was in Rio, made off with a hefty pile of gold krugerands and several thousand pounds from her secret (well, secret from the Revenue) stash, then done a bunk on the first train out of Bristol. Stopping only to sweet talk my stupid mother into giving him this address.

Last night I was stupid...but the morning light brought some sort of sanity. Company and the offering of a substantial bag of dried green fronds had blunted my usual common sense. It had been a while since I'd seen anyone from Bristol and Cook...well he's a fucking expert at getting round inconvenient objections. While I was quizzing him about his legal status and who informed on me, he nonchalantly rolled a fat one and pulled a small bottle of Chivas Regal out of his side pocket. Before I could form the words ' _get the fuck out_ ', he was sitting on my bed with that annoying cheeky grin, holding out the first of several spliffs.

He was dead right on one count anyway. The Sensimilia was epic. Two joints in I was so buzzed I passed on another slug from the bottle. He of course had no compunction finishing it for me and asking if I had any beers as a chaser. My sarcastic remark about whisky being the chaser to beer, not the other way round, just made him laugh. It was like that time I corrected his touch to touche...waste of fucking time. James Cook and English grammar are total strangers…

But I definitely didn't intend to spend the _night_ with him. Slobbing on the floor was one thing...I was so wasted by 10 o clock that when he was in the bathroom, peeing like a horse, I stripped off clumsily and staggered into my single bed. In my wobbly state, I didn't stop to think about changing my night time routine. I must have figured that he'd stay on the floor and not bother me in my nakedness.

Well, that fucking idea went pear shaped while I was asleep. The crafty bastard snuck in and no doubt had a good chuckle at what I would say this morning when I woke up with his erection about two inches from my butt. I shivered again at how close a proximity that well used organ had got to my fanny. Closer than it had any right to be, thats for sure.

But with him now dressed and me not, it was time to find out if my relatives had vacated the premises. If not, we were stuck up here until the coast was clear. I gave him a clear, blood curdling warning about what would happen to his testicles if he turned round while I was putting on a tee and joggers, and for once, he did as he was told. Dressed now too, I opened the bedroom door and crept out onto the landing. Fuck the house was freezing. My hitherto unknown relatives being as stingy as a Scotsman's raffle, the heating was on for about ten seconds in the morning and 20 in the evening. But I had no reason to complain...I was an unwanted and inconvenient guest...only here because my mother is hard to resist in pleading mode. It was supposed to be temporary...like _really_ temporary...but with no spare money and knowing no one else in London, I was up the poverbial Swanny without steering assistance.

After checking downstairs, I went back up to get Cook. He came out of my bedroom with the bag of krugerands jingling and a bulge in his denim jacket which meant he had mummy's stolen stash with him too.

I offered him a token breakfast of toast and peanut butter...mainly because there wasn't anything else in the fucking cupboard, but he declined.

"Naah princess...a man needs some proper grub after all that weed. I've still got the munchies...as well as a semi from snuggling up to that peachy little arse all night...what do you say we find a cafe and have some man food? Full English...doorstep bread and a gallon of coffee?"

I'd like to say that I was noble and firm, but thats a crock of shite. OK...I gave him another slap round the head for the ' _arse_ ' line, but the fried breakfast was too much to resist.

I let him shower before I did...I didn't want him hanging about near my underwear drawer any longer than necessary, and inside twenty minutes we were walking down the cold street to the greasy spoon I knew was on the corner of the main road.

An hour later, I was sitting back in my chair, stomach bulging from the mammoth fry up he'd ordered for both of us. My mother would have torn up her National Trust card in protest if she'd seen me then. Bacon slices, three sausages, two eggs, fried tomato's, fried bread and baked beans. Plus three rounds of farmhouse bread and two mugs of strong, sweet tea. For the first time since I'd arrived in London,. I felt vaguely content.

Cook is an arsehole...thats not in doubt. But he's _my_ arsehole. One of the few people who know me...properly know me? Him and...well, thats somewhere I don't want to go any more, isn't it?

I let him give out a long and disgusting belch (luckily the only other diners were two old dears who looked like a hand grenade could go off next to them without noticing), and leaned forward, groaning a bit at the fullness of my stomach.

"So...what's the plan Cookie…?" I said knocking his hand away from my plate, where a stray baked bean was being hunted by him.

"Dunno blondie" he said, nicking the lonely bean anyway and smirking at me as he chewed it. "...I've got cash...but the coins will need selling. Know any moody jewellers?"

I shook my head in disbelief. Really?

"Do I look like someone who knows shady jewellers James?" I said flatly.

"Naah blondie...you look like someone who's had her heart broken by a little redhead?"

I shook my head. Bastard.

"That was low Cookie, even for you...can we just not go there? I think between the two of us, I might be up shit creek, but at least I have a fucking paddle?"

He grinned, but for a brief second, I saw the little boy that lives behind those cornflower eyes. Cook always gives off the jack the lad vibe, but inside, he's a kid who never had a mother worth a damn and a totally absent father. I think they call it abandonment issues. For a second we looked at each other before he spoke again.

"Yeah, well...you keep my secrets and I'll keep yours Naomikins?...I ain't gonna make old bones, we both know that...so why not live fast, if you're gonna die young?"

I swallowed hard at that. Because he was right. Living the way he did...he'd be lucky to make 25, let alone 30. Suddenly I felt lucky compared to him and my throat constricted tightly. Wanker he might be, but he was as close a friend as I'd ever had.

I blinked to stop a treacherous tear forming. He'd only laugh at me and take the piss. We both knew each others secrets...had done for a while, so I resisted the impulse to get nostalgic and smirked back.

"Amen to that" I said "...well, much as I'd like to stay and reminisce about old times...I'm supposed to be enrolling in this fucking post 6th form college my mum has been on about for weeks. I've taken my A's...they were pretty good about me doing a bunk...mum spun them some line about my granny dying on me. But I've promised to knuckle down and be a good student till the results come in. I think Goldsmiths is fucked...they don't give second chances for emotional wrecks who get their heart broken by treacherous bitches...but...?"

Cook looked pained at that. I remembered he'd always had a soft spot for Em... _her_. Not just because he harboured vague hopes of shagging her...but I think he genuinely had feelings for her...mainly because she made _me_ happy. But that hadn't been true for months. Ever since I set that disaster ball rolling with a stupid afternoon grope with the late Sophia Moore.

He sighed and put down his mug of tea.

"Look Naomi...I get you're hurting. Finding your girlfriend playing hide the finger with a so called 'mate' is about as shit as it gets. But life goes on, sugar tits. Believe me, the word is she's as broken up about it all as you are...why don't you give her a ca..."

" _NO_ Cook..." I said angrily, making the Turkish bloke behind the ramp look up sharply. "...we're done...me and...well me and her. I cheated, she cheated...its all fucked now?"

He shook his head sadly and sucked at his teeth.

"You say that Naomikins...but remember, this is me you're talking to? I wrote the book on putting up a front? You and Em..." he stopped when I shot him a look of pure malice. "… you and little Red have something special…?"

" _Did_ have...past tense Cook" I said, folding my arms for emphasis. "Anyway, can we get off the subject of my miserable love life and talk about what you're gonna do next? Sleeping on my floor isn't an option again. We were lucky last night. The family were out and about...but if you come back again, you're bound to be spotted. They're antsy enough about _one_ unwanted lodger, two and we'll both get kicked out?

Cook shrugged.

"Well...I did have a suggestion to make?"

I raised one eyebrow and waited. Cooks suggestions normally begin and end with something gynaecological. This should be interesting.

"I've got a few thousand here...plus the krugerands. Enough to rent something decent. If I flash the cash, some greedy bastard will ignore the lack of references? What do you reckon...you and me...a two bed place and fuck that poxy box room you're squatting in?"

My eyes went wide.

"Are you having a fucking laugh?" I said incredulously "You and me...in a flat together? Did you get a knock on the head in Her Majesties Hotel Bristol?...we've had this discussion...you like fanny...but so do I Cook...it doesn't really add up, does it? Face it mate, you're never getting that technicolour todger any nearer to my unmentionables than you did this morning...end of"

He grinned widely.

"Naah babe...that ship has sailed, even Cookie knows that. But you can't be happy living in that tiny fucking room. Look...I'll even put the lease in your name? If I get lifted, or have to go to court again...you'll be safe...I'll stick down a few months in advance...just in case"

It was a stupid, short sighted idea. A non starter...completely crazy even.

So, three hours later, my pre college interview bumped, why was it that I was heading towards a two bedroom flat over a sandwich shop in the High Street with one James Cook? Oh...and a newly cut set of shiny Yale keys.

XXX

 _Three miles from them, a train was just pulling into St Pancras. A train carrying one Emily Jane Fitch...clutching a small post it note with an address on it…_

 **Longer (just) but I am writing every day now, so maybe the next one will be a big one?**


End file.
